


a study of pynch

by pigtheowl



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: F/M, How Do I Tag, M/M, Mention of abuse, Mention of drinking, robert parrish is mentioned, sarchengsey is mentioned, this is really sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 05:13:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9585005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pigtheowl/pseuds/pigtheowl
Summary: people were always surprised to hear what it was like to date ronan lynch.





	

people were always surprised to hear what it was like to date ronan lynch.

people always expected ronan to be pointed edges, cruel words, adrenaline rushes from zooming down the highway, twenty-five miles per hour over the speed limit, and for a while, that was how adam had seen him. for the longest time, and who could blame him? ronan, always running off and getting into fights and drinking and calling names, and when he was with kavinsky, it was a hundred times worse. 

adam had always supposed it was to scare people away. people in general, particularly aglionby boys like tad carruthers or henry cheng, were easily frightened by boys like ronan and k. adam had never been frightened by ronan. adam knew what it was to be afraid, to be really, truly afraid, and ronan didn’t make him feel that way. his father did.

the first time adam saw past ronan’s serrated edges and bold lines was the night his father deafened him in his left ear. when ronan, instead of driving away, got out of that damn bmw and gave robert parrish what the man had been giving adam his whole life. ronan punched adam’s father, and in that moment, he was soft.

(adam told ronan this, and ronan scoffed. told adam it must have been from his fall down the stairs, the shock of it and the pain of it putting loony thoughts in his head. but adam wasn’t sure, not quite.)

dating ronan lynch was something else entirely, something completely different from the ronan he had seen at school and at nino’s. dating ronan lynch was soft touches, hand holding under the table at nino’s, calloused hands carding through adam’s sandy blonde hair. 

god, adam could talk about ronan’s hands all day. he could have, and ronan would have listened (with a few sly remarks here and there, but who was adam to complain? it was endearing), but he chose to kiss them instead. adam would take the knuckles up to his mouth and press kisses to each one, and he would remember how, in the era of kavinsky and declan lynch and robert parrish, how those knuckles would always be scabbed over or bleeding or bruised, and he would hold those hands a bit more gently. 

if you had asked adam how he felt about hands three years ago, he would have cocked an eyebrow at you, made some point about their functions, and left it at that. now, at least to adam and ronan, hands were everything. 

before they had become--calling them a ‘couple’ felt too childish, somehow, too high school--before they had become adam and ronan, let’s say, when they stared at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking, when they threw wistful glances across the classroom, when ronan gave him hand cream and paid his rent and beat up his dad, adam would always catch ronan, when he caught him at all, looking at his hands. in other words, ronan had a bit of a hand fetish, and wasn’t exactly subtle about it. 

when adam would stay at the barns over breaks, he and ronan would just lie in bed for hours. sometimes they would talk. talk about college, about blue and gansey and henry and how their road trip was going, and sometimes they would speculate about where noah could have gone and if he was happier now than he was before, and the mood in the room would get a little darker, a little heavier--but adam didn’t mind, not so much, as long as he was lying next to ronan.

sometimes, they wouldn’t talk at all. adam would just lay next to ronan, the latter’s body spooning his, and ronan would pepper kisses down adam’s spine and run his fingers through adam’s hair, and adam would stare at ronan’s hand and look at the lines carved through it and wonder what blue’s family would see when they looked at those lines, if they would see anything at all or if they would just see a snake, like calla had said.

adam would wake up and ronan would be there still, asleep--adam loved to see ronan sleeping, finally getting some rest after years of insomnia--and his arm wrapped around adam’s waist. or he wouldn’t be there at all, adam would wake up to an empty bed, but it was always okay--because opal would drag him out of bed and down the stairs, and ronan would be in the kitchen falling asleep over his coffee mug and bowl of lucky charms (just the marshmallows, something he’d dreamed up for opal), and adam would smile at him and think how lucky he was to have him.

this doesn’t mean they never fought.

their first fight was brutal, and left adam feeling empty and helpless. adam had made some remark about--he could barely even remember anymore, it was something about declan and how ronan should learn to cooperate--and ronan had gotten furious. he had yelled at adam for forty-eight minutes (adam had watched each minute go by on the clock), until eventually winding down, loosening the fists at his sides and his face falling when he saw adam, standing in front of him, shaking like a leaf, fat crocodile tears rolling down his cheeks silently. 

adam had been so ashamed that day. he was always ashamed when he cried in front of ronan. he knew he shouldn’t be, that crying was natural and healthy, but he wanted ronan to think he was stronger than that.

the first time they slept together, in the same bed, at the barns, adam had a nightmare. it involved his father, ripping ronan away from him, taking away everything adam cherished, and crumpling it up in a big, hairy hand. telling adam he deserved nothing, that he was nothing, that even cabeswater never wanted him--and he woke up sobbing, unable to breathe.

ronan had woken up immediately. it was funny--adam had laughed at this, almost hysterically--for someone who had experienced almost literally life-ruining nightmares their entire life, ronan had no clue how to go about calming adam down. he just sat there, eyes wide, watching as adam broke.

“i’m sorry,” adam had told ronan. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry.” his henrietta accent was back, it elongated the vowels and adam hated every second of it.

ronan got better, though. ronan learned how to wake adam up from nightmares and how to bring him back down. how to get him to stop hyperventilating and realize that he was real, that he wasn’t going anywhere, that robert parrish would never get to him again, and in those moments, ronan was smoothed down, rounded at the corners.

ronan told adam over and over again about how he loved his accent. adam thought he was mental, at first. adam had been told his whole life to cover it up, to never let anyone know that he was trailer trash from henrietta, virginia, and ronan was telling him he cherished the moments when he heard adam’s voice slip--it didn’t make any sense to him. but every time he would slip, every time a bit of henrietta would leave his mouth, ronan would blush bright red, kiss him, squeeze his hand, and adam learned to love it. 

ronan taught adam to love himself. ronan showed adam his soft side, how his points and edges could be dulled down. adam fell in love with that ronan, the one who was nothing more than a big softie, and ronan fell in love with pure, unfiltered henrietta adam, and there was nothing that made them happier.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed!! please leave kudos and/or a comment if you feel up to it ;)
> 
> my tumblr is @sadflorist, come yell at me (please i need friends)


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